


Sweet and Sour

by AmBunMustRun



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Clive is a dick, Eventual Smut, Frank is a broken boi, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Vampire Bites, Verbal Abuse, blood sucking, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28555086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmBunMustRun/pseuds/AmBunMustRun
Summary: Danny is a vampire.Enough said.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Frank Morrison
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Sweet and Sour

His stomach rumbled. Hand over it, he bunched up his white button up tight in his fist, bending into himself to try and ease the pain. A month. It had been a month since he had anything even close to food. He had been testing his limits, and it seemed that he finally found it. Fangs protruding from his gums, they pierced into his lower lip, drawing a small bit of the pain away from his middle. He would need to kill tonight, but not to satisfy his urges. He would need it to feed.

Blood was plentiful in Roseville, Florida, but Danny Johnson had a very particular set of morals when it came to feeding. Mostly as a precaution, of course. The rest was a personal preference. For one, he would never drink straight from the source. The markings of fangs were too obvious, Hunters would be on his trail far too quickly if he dared to try. Two, he could only take a pint from each victim. Not only because of the Hunters noticing, but the cops too. They may have been idiots who couldn’t figure out who he really was, but they knew when something was amiss if something was off  _ just _ enough. And lastly… Well, he would starve himself for as long as he could handle it. He had been doing so for well over a hundred years, and in the end, while he had ached and suffered the pains of hunger, he felt himself stronger for it.

Some Vampires were too reliant on a constant blood source. It became an addiction, the hunt and slaughter, and that was why Danny was one of the few that remained alive for so long. Those addicted to blood would get careless and they would be found out and hunted down. Some would be so addicted that when they had to hide away in order to not die at the hands of humans specialized in their death, they would turn to eating their own organs one by one, eating the useless ones first before eventually eating their own hearts.

Danny never wanted to become addicted. He prided himself on his control. Glaring up at his reflection in the mirror, something that he was still getting used to seeing since they went from silver to aluminum backings years ago, the man wanted nothing more than to keep starving himself. The sight of his fangs told him that he couldn’t keep doing it.

He needed to hunt, and he needed to do it tonight.

But first, he needed to get through the rest of his shift at the Gazette.

Collecting himself as best as he could, his fangs retracting back into his gums, Danny took a few deep breaths. He just needed to last through a few hours. It would be fine.

[xXx]

It had not been fine.

Not one bit.

Danny was more antsy waiting for his target to come home than he had ever felt. It was a young woman and her father. Both were healthy, often going to the gym with one another and keeping each other in check with their diet. The daughter had strong armed her father into the healthy lifestyle after a heart attack, so they were both perfect for what the Vampire needed. He perked up when he smelled them before he heard them. They were both fresh from the gym, their blood pumping nice and fast, rushing through their veins tantalizingly so. A shudder rolled through the man.

He would take a bit more than normal this time.

He was already planning on leaving Roseville as it was, anyways. The cops were getting close to figuring him out. They would be his last meal. Hunters would be called in after noticing the abnormal amount of blood missing. And by then, the Ghostface killer would be long gone. Maybe he would go up to Canada this time. Give the States a false sense of security that he was gone for a little while. Cops and Hunters both would lose track of him.

Anything to last him a while and rid his stomach of the awful pain it had been enduring.

He could hear the both of them chattering away in the kitchen. It was part of their routine, he knew, and after a few minutes, he could hear them begin to separate. The daughter would be going to take a shower to wash up while the father would be slipping away to his room for a well earned nap. Danny contemplated which one he wanted to kill first and, ultimately, decided the daughter would be the first to die. He could get his fill of blood from her before it washed down the drain, making it all the harder for anyone to notice it missing. A far better idea than simply taking a limited amount. The circumstances were certainly looking fondly on the killer today.

Slipping through the shadows, the Vampire neared his target, hearing the shower begin to run. As he got closer to the woman, the louder her blood seemed to be, causing a painful twist in his stomach.

He would eat fine tonight.

Shower running, Danny slipped inside of the bathroom. The woman never locked the door. Whether she simply felt that safe in her own home or the lock was non-functional, the male wasn't sure, but it certainly saved him the trouble of picking the lock. He neared the shower, slowly standing to his full height. He had to be careful here. Carefully slipping into the shower behind the woman, her back to him as she washed herself with a lathered loofa, he licked his lips.

Hand shot out, covered her mouth, and knife at her throat, the woman had no time to react. She was choking on her blood before her body became limp.

Danny pulled out a bottle, lining the lip of the opening with her throat and watching as the beautiful crimson of her life flowed into it. She was still bleeding quite a bit when he pulled it away, shifting his mask to the side and beginning to drink. The beautiful, scarlet hot liquid slid down the man's parched throat thickly, the bitter, coppery taste biting at his tongue as it passed. Blood more or less all seemed to taste the same, at least from the killer’s experience. Some blood was sweeter, some was more tart, but overall, it all tasted the same. There was always a way to tell which end of the spectrum the flavor would land on based on the person's life, however.

The more pain and suffering they endured, the sweeter the blood. The more luxurious and spoiled they lived, however, the more tart it was.

Those who were victims in wars and tragedies had a sweetness to them that Danny quite enjoyed. He had a preference of the sweeter blood, though realistically, it made no difference to him in the end.

Blood was blood.

He filled the bottle several times before he finally felt better, the pains in his middle fading into nothingness. He drank a tad more from her before emptying the bottle one last time and laying her body along the floor of the tub. The blood from her throat turned pink as it mixed with the water and slid down the drain.

Now to deal with her father, steal his blood, then prepare to leave Roseville once and for all.

Hopefully he could feed well up in Canada.

[xXx]

It had been just another day in Ormond for the merry little band of juveniles known as the Legion. They had all been walking to their leader’s prison (at least that was what he jokingly called the bungalow that he lived in with his foster father), having met up outside of the high school as soon as classes let out for the day. There was fresh snow falling from above, blanketing the ground as each flake touched down. Susie, the youngest and shyest out of the group, was talking rapidly, excitedly, about something or another, her words failing to reach the leader’s, Frank’s, ears. Well, at least until Julie, his ex-girlfriend and right hand woman, nudged him a little harshly, gartering his attention.

“They almost caught him! That serial stalker and killer I told you guys about!” Susie was chattering on, waving her hands about animatedly. Susie had been a major true crime and murder mystery nut, a fact that was shocking due to her reserved, naive nature. She was always on top of all the current events when it came to killers being on the up and up.

“Remind me who you’re talking about?” Julie hummed, raising a brow at her friend.

“The Ghostface killer! You know, has a high body count, been all over the States over the last ten years?” the blue haired girl lisped in exasperation, almost as though she were offended that they wouldn’t know who she meant.

Joey raised a brow at the girl, frowning ever so slightly. “How haven’t they caught him yet? There’s  _ no _ way he’s been able to avoid the cops for  _ ten _ years!”

“Any possible suspects?” Frank decided to ask, stuffing his hands in his varsity jacket pockets. “Name, face, identifiers?”

“Only an MO. Anything like that, the cops haven’t released to the public…” Susie admitted, frowning a little. “And even the MO is a bit sketchy at best.”

The group of teens continued to talk about it all the way to Frank’s home, pausing in their conversation to allow the male silence as he scope the inside for his foster father, Clive. With the man nowhere in sight, Frank nodded and beckoned his friends inside. They went straight to his bedroom, closing the door behind themselves. Once in the comfort and safety of the bedroom, Julie flopped onto the full twin sized bed, Susie cleared off one of two beanbag chairs and settled into it, Joey sat on the floor, and Frank leaned against the door. They returned to their conversation, discussing the Ghostface killer still. While he wasn’t in Ormond, killing the stupid sheep that haunted their streets, the topic was still more interesting than anything they could possibly learn in an eight hour day locked up in school.

“What if he shows up in Canada?” Joey asked after a little bit, brow furrowed and gaze lost in thought.

“He was in Roseville, Florida, last. He would have a seriously long drive to get here. And he would have to get past border control…” Susie hummed, playing and twisting at the edges of her sleeves, frowning slightly to herself.

“Do you think he would hit up Ontario? Or some place smaller?” Julie asked, sitting up slightly on her elbows.

“Imagine if he hit up Ormond,” hummed Frank, crossing his arms across his chest, tapping at his arm slightly.

There was a tangible silence that filled the air then. It had been a very…  _ terrifying _ thought to think about…

That is, until they all broke out into laughter, the silence melting away. “Ormond is plenty ‘interesting’ enough since we became the Legion! It would crumble under anything more!” Julie boasted with a wide grin on her face.

There came a noise, then. It was the sound of the front door of the bungalow opening and closing, a noise in which caused Frank to curse under his breath. “Shit,” he grumbled. “It’s time for you guys to go.”

“Old man is home?” Joey sighed as he looked up at their leader.

Frank nodded. “Yeah. And you know how he is about you guys being here.”

Susie was already up and opening one of the windows. “We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” she asked a little hopefully. Frank knew why, of course. It was her birthday. The second one that he would be experiencing since he moved to the shithole town. While Frank didn’t give a shit about birthdays generally, when it came to his Legion, he was  _ very _ good at remembering the dates and knowing just what to get them to make them happy.

“Sure,” the male nodded, acting nonchalant. “Now, get going before the fucker comes in here.”

Seemingly disappointed by the blase answer, Susie slipped out from the bedroom. Joey and Julie slipped out afterwards. Closing the window after them, Frank took a deep breath. He knew the asshole would be shitfaced already, too. While  _ most _ people got drunk at night, Clive liked to get drunk from the moment he woke up until the moment he passed out. Very seldom was he ever actually  _ sober _ .

The male wished he grabbed a drink before going into his bedroom earlier.

Slipping out carefully and quietly, Frank slinked his way into the kitchen. Of course, with his luck, Clive somehow managed to hear the male, immediately slurring out in a bark, “Get me a beer, boy!”

“Aren’t you drunk enough already, asshole?” growled the male under his breath. Not wanting to deal with him, Frank did his best to ignore him, grabbing a beer for himself before trying to slide back into his room.

“Did you not fucking hear me, Morrison? Bring me a beer or so help me I will  _ beat _ your ass!”

Those words cause the male to freeze and lock up. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He hated to do what Clive asked of him, but realistically, he wouldn’t be able to fight back if the man really did go through on his threats. He had already learned that lesson once before, that Clive didn’t make  _ idle _ threats. Drunk or not, he was a beast of a man who had no problem raising a hand to the male. After all, who would the jury believe? The town drunkard who never caused trouble in public and had a mostly clean record? Or the troubled youth with a criminal record and a history of anger issues?

Dragging his feet back to the kitchen, Frank grabbed another bottle of beer, this time for Clive. As he brought it over to the man, he was thoroughly shocked as his wrist was suddenly grabbed roughly, pulling him down into a hunched over position. His foster father was, surprisingly, not drunk as of yet, but rather, he was tipsy. He must have only started to drink before coming home. Probably ran out of foster care money to piss away at the bar. The grip on his wrist is tight enough to bruise the flesh underneath.

“Fucking ungrateful brat. When I fucking tell your lazy ass to do something, you fucking do it, you got it?” he growled. He normally wasn’t so much of an asshole. Maybe the bartender threw his ass out? That had to be why he was so pissed off. Maybe his tab got too big…? He shoved Frank away from himself, scoffing as he opened the beer. “No wonder you were always between families. Nobody wanted a trash child like  _ you _ .” Knowing his words cut deep, the male threw his head back and chugged his beer. Frank set down the beer he stole for himself before going back to the kitchen, stealing two more for himself. The additional beer would distract Clive and hopefully make him leave the male alone.

Slinking back into his bedroom, Frank hurried over to his bed, popping the cap off of his beer and taking a swig of it as he collapsed. Setting the beer down on his night stand, he grabbed his Walkman. He needed to listen to some music before he crumbled from the onslaught of insults Clive had thrown at him. The loud thrum of music that started to blast into his ears did little to calm his rapidly beating heart. It did little to distract from the burning of his wrist. And it did little to drown out the ringing in his ears. He turned up the music to ungodly levels, the beats and guitar riffs assaulting his eardrums harshly.

His mind was racing. It hadn’t been the first time Clive had grabbed him like that. And it definitely wasn’t the first time that the man had thrown hurtful words his way. Reminding himself of that fact didn’t help to ease his mind, however.

Would Clive be a possible victim of the Ghostface killer if he ever  _ did _ show up in Ormond of all places? Would his foster father even be targeted in the first place? Would Frank come home one day to find his gruesome remains all over the bungalow? Would the killer be just as ruthless and merciless as Susie had told him he was?

The thought of finding Clive slaughtered in his stupid reclining chair, maybe with his beer bottle shoved down his throat and shattered, glass stabbing through the flesh…

It made Frank shudder. Whether it was a shudder of disgust or one of excitement, the male had no idea, nor did he care. As he thought more on all the gruesome ways the killer could murder his foster father, the leader of the Legion started to feel himself calm down. As he sipped his beer, he began to brokenly laugh to himself. “I really  _ am _ fucked up, huh…?” he murmured under his breath.

Clive would get what was coming to him one day.

He hoped.


End file.
